


"What's that ribbon for?"

by nooky



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Eating Disorder, Gen, Support, Wow, a lot of feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-21
Updated: 2014-04-21
Packaged: 2018-01-20 07:53:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1502603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nooky/pseuds/nooky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry has struggled with eating disorders in the past. A mark reminds him of that. A mark that the boys notice. As Harry opens up and remembers his past, will the boys understand? One boy in particular understands immensely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"What's that ribbon for?"

"What's that ribbon for?" I heard a higher pitched, peppy voice inquire.

I followed Louis' eyes down to the light purple colored ribbon that was inked right under my V line. Unfortunately, my jeans had slightly fallen showing the small tattoo that id tried to keep hidden. 

My eyes widened as I looked back up. All of the boys were now staring straight at me as I pulled my pants up and threw on a t-shirt. 

"Harry?" Zayn added, not letting me out of this one.

Well shit.

"It-uh-it's nothing," I tried to wave them off, not wanting to ruin the hype of another great show. By now, though, the buzz was wearing off and I felt empty again. It happened every time we had a show. I wasn't sure if it was just me, but the other boys seemed to act like that too.

"What does it mean? I don't think I've seen that tattoo of yours before," Zayn piped up, bringing me back to reality. 

"Is it awareness for something?" Niall questioned, shooting yet another uncomfortable comment toward me.

My head spun. The memories of my childhood squirming their way back into my mind. 

"Look it's Harry!" A tall blonde boy pointed straight at me.

"What a fatass." Another boy snickered.

"His bookbag is probably filled with snacks, just look how big it is," A tiny, frail looking girl added. 

I didn't know forth graders could be so harsh.

A small tear slipped out of my eye, and I quickly wiped it away as I tried to brush off their comments and continue walking.

I didn't think I was fat. Apparently everyone else thought differently. I was normal height, thin legs, pretty average. I had a small stomach that barely poked out of my school uniform, but I never considered myself fat.

Looking down I saw an average boy. 

Until the comments continued.

"Harry, you should just skip a meal every now and again. Maybe you'll lose some fucking weight."

That one remark. 

That set me off.

People in high school were blunt. Every year I would get called fat, but it wasn't until now that someone actually told me to stop eating. 

So. That's what I did.

I'd skip breakfast in a rush to get to school. I wouldn't eat at lunch. Kids would smirk at me and say it was about time.

At home, I'd have to eat dinner. My mom would watch and have me talk about my day. Stupid bitch. She didn't even know.

"May I be excused? I don't feel too well." I tried to pull off my best "sick" voice.

"Sure honey, I'll take care of your plate," My mom gestured for me to go.

I stood in front of the mirror for half an hour before I couldn't take it. I just saw some fat kid who was worthless.

My legs carried me swiftly into the bathroom, locking the door behind me. I shoved my finger down my throat, only to gag a little. A few more tries and I successfully started puking all of the contents of my stomach out. 

Good, I thought. Lose some weight you fat piece of shit.

And I did.

It became a regular routine for me. Skipping the meals I could and throwing up the rest.

I lost a lot of weight. Too much.

My mom noticed and sent me to a fucking rehab center. She was worried but I wasn't. I was losing weight. I was doing what everyone wanted me to do.

I was fitting in.

Kids at school stopped teasing me. But they would give me apologetic looks. Why? 

I was doing what they wanted. Why were they sad about it?

When I left for rehab, my sister told me she "would see me when I got better." 

Better what? I wasn't bad.

But I soon realized.

I looked in the mirror and saw nothing but bone. My cheeks shallow and rough, my legs fragile, my stomach caving inward. I saw who I'd become. Someone broken.

It was the best thing that could've happened to me, rehab was. It got me into music. It made me healthier. It made me who I am today.

I was shot in the arm with a rubber band, forcing me to come back into my own head. The worried expression on the boys' faces told me I'd been out for awhile.

"Mate, you okay?" Lou asked gently, touching my shoulder. 

I nodded, stood up, and prepared myself. It was time to let it out. 

"This," I pointed to the tattoo, "Is an eating disorder awareness ribbon." They all went silent and started to look confused. I continued. "I used to have anorexia and bulimia..." 

"But, why?"

"Yeah you're the healthiest person I know!"

"Dude you're so thin."

The questions came barreling at me all at once. My brain was jumbled again, not knowing how to respond.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Liam stand quietly and place a hand on my shoulder. 

"I know," He whispered. That was the most confusing thing at the moment. Even with the other three shouting at me to explain. 

I furrowed my eyebrows at him and he just gazed down. 

My gaze followed his down to his ankle. A small, barely noticeable tattoo painted the side of his bone. A tattoo that mirrored my own. 

I look back up at him with a shocked expression. He just repeated his phrase from before.

"I know."

And for once, I knew that someone had gone through exactly what I had. 

Someone understood me.

And it felt good.


End file.
